


Honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes I feel like a person for a moment of my life

by Twisted_Silver



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Annabelle Cane - mentioned, Artist gerry (idk if thats canon), But i don't think it's actually referenced, Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Eric tells Michael how to leave the institute, Fix-It, Gerry Lives, Gertrude Robinson - mentioned, Gertrude Robinson still gets whats coming to her, M/M, Michael Shelley Lives, Michael Shelley has synesthesia, Michael is blind, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, ace characters written by ace person, basically im gay and this is me yearning boys, before gertrude sacrifices him, brief mention of suicidal thoughts/not explicit, fluff and comfort, its so soft, no spiral au, one of my many Gerry Keay bookstore AUs, rated teen bc of swearing and kissing, referenced (but not explicit) eye trauma, referenced panic attacks, set nebulously in s3 but gerry references mag160 info, tags will be updated as necessary, theres a cat named Breadstick, use of "bunny" as a pet name bc i think its cute, world doesnt end in this one lads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23749729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Silver/pseuds/Twisted_Silver
Summary: He laughed more at Gerry’s theatrics and Gerry grinned. “Is that so?” He asked, playing with the sleeve hem. “So, you just so happen to have a jumper thatalsohas a patch on the elbow andjust so happensto also smell like my cologne?”“Exactly. I’m glad you’re being reasonable.” Michael laughed at him again and Gerry kissed his forehead. “Do you want it back, bunny?”“No, I like you in my jumpers.” He answered, fingers rubbing over the fabric as he tried to remember what it looked like.Gerry and Michael have managed to (mostly) escape the supernatural things in their lives, by whatever means necessary, and now they get to live their (mostly) happily ever after.ADDITION: in light of ep 167 I want to say that I started writing this fic before Michael's canon age was established, and this fic was written with under the logic that because they worked with Gertrude at around the same time, that Michael and Gerry would be around the same age.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Comments: 18
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by hypnoshatesme's fic "Tender" which is [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23577286)
> 
> Title from "to be alone" by hozier

_“That’s it Michael, just a couple more minutes. Just to be sure.” Eric’s voice was soothing and completely at odds with the agony he was asking Michael to continue to endure._

_“It hurts!” He sobbed back, his grip on the older man’s hand was bruising._

_It wasn’t as if he hadn’t asked for this. Gertrude was preparing to stop another ritual and she’d mentioned, off hand of course, that she’d like Michael to come with her. Before he would have gone without question. It wasn’t that he was stupid, or painfully naive, as Gertrude seemed to think. As much as everyone may have thought the opposite, Michael actually knew the risks of his job well. He knew there was a very high chance that he wouldn’t come back from one of her trips. There had just been a long time where he’d wanted to die, and if his death would save other people, all the better. Now though, now he had something to live for._

_The older man held his hands, likely as much to prevent Michael from hurting himself more as it was to comfort him. “Breathe Michael. Remember why you’re doing this, remember who you’re doing this for.”_

_He took a ragged breath and nodded, too far gone from pain to realize how pointless the gesture was. The pain still sliced into every one of his senses, and a distant part of him remarked at how curious it was that color still bloomed in the darkness._

* * *

He woke with a start, and for a moment there was nothing to pull him away from the afterimage of agony that burned in his eyes. Then he felt the covers he was tangled up in and let out a shaky sigh. His hand brushed over the mattress, finding the spot next to him empty.

“Gerry?” He called uncertainly as he pushed off the blankets. The yellow of his voice, though dulled, helped to ground him. 

“In the kitchen bunny,” Gerry’s steel grey words soothed his frayed nerves and Michael felt himself relax. 

He padded out to the kitchen, stopping to pull on a shirt, Gerry’s by the smell of it. The warm scent of coffee reminded him he was home. 

“Morning,” Gerry mumbled, taking his outstretched hand gently. “Everything okay bunny?” His voice was tinted with concern, and Michael could imagine the face he was probably making. 

He traced the outline of his boyfriend’s arm up to his shoulder, then buried his face there. “Nightmare.” He mumbled.

Michael felt Gerry shift and heard the soft _clink_ of a mug hitting the counter top, before the other man’s arms wrapped around him. “About leaving the Institute?” 

He nodded. He didn’t have nightmares often, not anymore, but it was the same one every time. The night he had sat in Eric Delano’s kitchen and freed himself. “I’m just lucky I never gave a statement huh?” He was trying for a joke, but it sounded like he might cry. 

“Want to sit on the couch with me?” Gerry was gentle with him as always. That was one of the things that hadn’t changed from before, he had always treated Michael like spun glass. It was annoying at times, but more often than not he appreciated it. He nodded. 

Gerry picked up the coffee mug and walked over to the couch with him. Michael didn’t need any help to navigate their flat, he had it down by muscle memory, but he held onto Gerry's arm anyways. He was still afraid of losing him. However much the fear had dulled over the years, it still managed to strike during his low moments. 

“Co’mere.” Gerry mumbled, and Michael folded himself against his side, feeling the other man’s arm settle around him. 

* * *

Gerry had been furious when he’d found out what happened. He wasn’t angry _at_ Michael, not exactly. He was angry that Michael was hurt, and that no one had talked to him about it beforehand. But he tried to never direct his anger _at_ Michael if he could help it. The whole thing had come to a head later that night, after he’d found out. He’d just gotten through yelling at his father over the phone for his part in all of it, and had gone into their bedroom to find Michael curled up sobbing in the corner. 

_“Michael? Michael, shit, what’s wrong?” He hurried over, already kicking himself for losing his temper._

_“I-I’m sorry I’m s-s-sorry I-I-” He let out another broken sob, shaking and hugging himself tighter._

_Gerry kneeled by him carefully. “Hey, hey, don’t cry bunny. It's okay, shh.” He took Michael’s hands carefully. “I’m not mad at you, I promise. I… I’m just worried. You scared me Michael.”_

_“I’m sorry.” He hiccuped and let Gerry pull him into a gentle hug._

_“I just, you need to talk to me before you do something like this, okay? I’m not angry with you. I'm not going to leave you Michael, I'm not going anywhere, I'm here. ”_

_“P-promise?”_

_“I promise bunny,” He kissed Michael’s forehead and held him close._

The anxiety attack had eventually ended, and they were able to have a long talk about everything with minimal crying. Gerry even called his dad back and apologized for shouting at him. Michael promised not to do anything like that in the future without talking to him first, and Gerry was heavily involved with the healing process. After a while they were able to return to something resembling life as usual. It wasn’t much later that Gerry stopped actively hunting Leitners and opened his bookstore. It was finally time for him to settle down, set down roots in one place. Michael needed him to be safe and he needed Michael to be safe. He couldn’t keep throwing himself into the jaws of death like he had been. He had something to live for. 

* * *

Michael felt a familiar, furry weight settle in his lap and smiled. “Hullo Breadstick. How are you?” Their fat, fluffy cat purred in response. 

“She got a can of tuna this morning,” Gerry hummed and he could hear the smile. 

“Oh? Lucky girl.” Michael stroked his fingers over the soft fur. “What’s the occasion?” 

“Someone,” Gerry kissed his cheek. “Got approved for seven slots in a gallery.”

“Really?” He grinned. “Gerry that’s fantastic!” 

* * *

One of Gerry’s many weaknesses when it came to Michael his excitement. Between the wide puppy eyes, the huge smile, and the bubbly laughter, it never failed to make his heart melt. 

Michael touched his face gently, then kissed his cheek. “I’m so proud of you babe.” 

“Thanks bunny. You’ll have to help me pick which paintings to display, of course.” 

* * *

It had been a hard thing to get used to at first. A lot of things had been hard to get used to, but for Gerry that was the hardest. Michael’s eyes had always been so full when he looked at him. Of life. Joy. Love. Now they were a flat, cloudy gray. That had broken his heart at first. He knew it was a selfish thing to miss when Michael had given up his sight to be with him, but he couldn't help the ache in his chest. It didn't take as long as he'd worried it would for Gerry to get used to it, though, and it just became something that was a part of Michael. And he loved Michael, so he loved his eyes by default, even if they were different. Gerry had also learned to see the love and joy and life written across Michael’s face, and in his voice, and in the way he moved, in a way that he had noticed before but never appreciated as much as he should have. He resolved to never take any of it for granted again.

* * *

Michael laughed, and in that moment Gerry was reminded of, despite everything else, how lucky he was. Sharing a flat with the man he loved and their spoiled cat above the book store he owned. If someone had told him ten years ago that he’d be so happy living such a quiet, domestic life, he'd probably have punched them. 

“You’re staring,” Michael smiled and stroked his cheek. 

“I’m just thinking about how lucky I am.”

“Getting in a gallery is going to be such a big step for you babe, I’m so proud.” He had that sweet look of his that was painfully endearing.

“Well, yeah. But that’s not what I meant.” 

“Oh?” His brow furrowed a bit and god, Gerry loved him so much. 

“I meant this. Having the bookstore and Breadstick and _you._ I must be the luckiest man alive.” He smiled at the way Michael’s face turned pink. 

He hid his face against Gerry’s shoulder and poked him in the stomach lightly. “You’re so cheesy.” He mumbled, but Gerry could tell he was smiling. 

“You love it,” he responded with a grin. 

“I love _you_.” 

“I love you too.” 

* * *

“I thought you were asleep.” Gerry hummed when Michael shifted to kiss the edge of his jaw. 

“I was.” His voice was still raspy from sleep. He found Gerry’s hand under the blanket they were wrapped up in and laced their fingers together. He felt pleasantly warm and soft, his consciousness still fuzzy at the edges. 

“Did I wake you?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” He yawned and stretched. “What time is it?”

“A little after four. Can I have my arm back?” 

Michael pouted, and he felt Gerry’s laugh before he heard it. 

“It's gone numb bunny.” 

“Fiiiiine.” He huffed and leaned up to let Gerry move his arm. As soon as he did, Michael snuggled back into his side. 

Gerry stretched and smiled. “Thank you,” he said, rubbing Michael’s knee. The touch sounded soft and warm. 

He grumbled something, but there was no bite to it. Michael was trailing his finger’s up and down the other man’s sleeve, listening to the soft sigh of the fabric, when he suddenly realized something. “Is this my jumper?” 

“Mm, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Michael laughed. “Gerry, are you wearing my jumper?” 

“Of course not!” He responded with mock indignance. “I certainly would _never_ wear my boyfriend’s pastel pink jumper just because it smells like him. Honestly, what kind of man do you take me for?” 

He laughed more at Gerry’s theatrics and Gerry grinned. “Is that so?” He asked, playing with the sleeve hem. “So, you just so happen to have a jumper that _also_ has a patch on the elbow and _just so happens_ to also smell like my cologne?”

“Exactly. I’m glad you’re being reasonable.” Michael laughed at him again and Gerry kissed his forehead. “Do you want it back, bunny?” 

“No, I like you in my jumpers.” He answered, fingers rubbing over the fabric as he tried to remember what it looked like. It bothered him that he couldn’t. 

“Hey,” Michael felt Gerry’s hand a few moments later, warm against his own. “What’s that look for?” 

He realized he’d been frowning. “Oh, I… I can’t remember. What it looks like.” His voice was greyed at the edges with distress. 

Gerry picked up on it immediately, of course, he always did, and shifted a bit to hold his hands. “Well we can’t have that, can we? You’ve got to be able to know how ridiculous I look when I wear it. So I’ll describe it to you, okay?” 

“Okay,” Michael responded, and managed to smile despite himself. 

“Where should we start, hm? It looks a bit like a dress on me, since you’re a damn giant.” Gerry poked his chest.

“That’s a funny way to say you’re short.” Michael teased and was rewarded by Gerry swatting his face gently with the sweater sleeve. He smiled. 

“A lot more people would say that _six-fucking-five_ is giant than would say five-nine short.” 

“Whatever you say babe,” 

“ _Anyways,_ it's a rather awful shade of pink. Like chewed gum. Or brains.” 

Michael laughed a bit, Gerry was just being contrary now. 

“And it’s got this big purple stripe, like, right over the tits.” 

He couldn’t help it and burst out laughing at that. “Really, the tits?” Michael managed through his laughter. He could remember the jumper now and the quiet fear of forgetting had slipped away. 

“The tits, I swear, scouts honor.” Gerry insisted, quite seriously. 

Michael grinned and laughed more. 

“There’s that smile.” He hummed, full of love. 

“Thank you.” He mumbled against the soft fabric of Gerry’s shoulder. 

“Any time bunny.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at [gayforthegoblinking](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gayforthegoblinking) on tumblr to discuss the story and other stuff.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some ableism in this chapter, if you don't want to read that just skip to the first page break.

They didn’t go out very often, as much for Gerry’s sake as for Michael’s. For Michael it was unfamiliar situations that stressed him out, on top of the blatant ableism he seemed to face constantly. For Gerry it was being out in the open. The recent peaceful years hadn’t yet managed to rewrite his instincts or his enemy list, both of which pointed towards  _ going out = being exposed = unsafe.  _ Today was their anniversary though, and their tenth at that, and they both sort of felt obliged to go out to celebrate. The night had not been off to a great start. 

They’d gone to the same restaurant they tended to go to for these kinds of things, but their usual waitress, a sweet girl named Clara who always made a point to treat Michael well, wasn’t there. Instead there was a man who Gerry didn’t like the look of already, and he’d not even gotten to their table yet. Gerry’d been around long enough to know “asshole” by sight. 

“What can I get you to drink?” He asked with a bored look. 

“A Guinness, please.” 

“And what will  _ he  _ be having?” The waiter asked Gerry, before Michael even had a chance to open his mouth. 

He frowned. “Why are you asking me?” 

The man muttered something that sounded dangerously like _ “it's not like he can read the menu”  _ before turning to Michael. “What can I get for you, sir?” He asked, so patronizingly that Gerry was tempted to just hit him right there. 

“Just water, please.” It was far from the first rude person they’d dealt with, but Gerry could see how it instantly tore Michael down. 

The waiter said nothing, and as he walked away his foot caught Michael’s cane and sent it clattering across the floor. He pretended not to notice. 

“Gerry,” Michael’s voice cut through the quiet rage building in him. 

He reached over and picked up the cane, handing it back to Michael. “Do you wanna just go home and order pizza? We can grab drinks on the way.” 

“Yeah, yeah that sounds better.” 

He dropped a five pound note on the table and they left before their drinks even arrived. “God what an asshole.” He muttered when they got outside. 

Michael squeezed his hand gently. “I’m okay.” 

Gerry sighed. “I hate when people treat you like that.” 

“People are assholes.” He shrugged and for a moment looked so tired. “But you promised me pizza.” He added, kissing Gerry’s cheek. 

He knew it upset Michael more than he let on. The man had seemingly endless patience, and a tolerance for abuse that made Gerry very very angry at the people in his past, but he was still human. He wasn’t made of stone and Gerry could see the way it wore him down every time. He knew, though, that his anger wouldn’t make Michael feel better. It was more likely to do the opposite. Today was supposed to be about them celebrating being happy together, not some asshole, so he focused on that instead. 

“I think I also said something about drinks?” He hummed, and relaxed a bit when he saw Michael perk up. 

“Wine?” The tall blonde asked hopefully, and he grinned. 

“Anything for you bunny.” 

* * *

They ended up cuddled up on the couch, like they usually did, full on cheap pizza and good wine. Something neither of them cared about was playing on the TV, but Gerry was far more interested in Michael’s cool fingers where they trailed over his cheek. 

“You’re so pretty Gerry.” He hummed. 

“Bunny between you and me, you are definitely the pretty one.” Michael smiled at that. “My point exactly.” 

His fingers brushed over Gerry’s lips. “Can I kiss you?” 

He smiled, they’d been together ten years and Michael still asked to kiss him every time like it was the first time. There was something about that that was just so wonderfully Michael, it warmed his heart. “Please do,” 

Sex had never been something either of them were terribly interested in, but kissing was a form of intimacy they loved to share with each other. Michael had once told him that he loved the way that Gerry kissed him without pretense, that it made him feel like he was enough. After that he put a lot of effort into making sure Michael knew that he was wanted, that he was enough for Gerry. That he was everything Gerry could possibly want and more. 

There was a bit of rearranging, then Michael was sat in his lap, knees bracketing his hips. For a few moments he just ran his finger tips slowly across the features of Gerry’s face, committing each detail to memory. That was another form of intimacy that they shared. He watched Michael, eyes half closed as he traced the curve of Gerry’s jaw, with a reverence he felt reflected in the other man’s touch. His lips were quirked into a slight smile and he was close enough for Gerry to see the slight freckles dusted across his nose and cheeks. He was the most beautiful thing in Gerry’s world. 

Michael made a content sound and leaned in to press their lips together. Gerry kissed back, rubbing little circles into the man’s hips with his thumbs. Michael’s hands trailed up to tangle in his hair, and he made a frustrated sound when he found that it was tied up. Long fingers found the hair tie and made short work of it, and Gerry let out a little sigh as they combed through his now freed hair. Eventually Michael pulled his hands free of Gerry’s hair, a little reluctantly, and let one rest against the man’s chest while the other went to tilt his chin up, to make the angle easier. 

Gerry obliged, his own hands remapping the subtle curves he knew so well. He felt Michael’s tongue brush against his bottom lip, and obliged that too, parting his lips to let him deepen the kiss. Michael tasted like sweet red wine, and Gerry wanted to spend the rest of his life drunk off him. 

“Can I?” He mumbled against Michael’s lips as he toyed with the edge of the man’s shirt. 

“Please do,” he hummed, and kissed Gerry again, shivering as Gerry’s hands slid against his skin. 

Michael’s skin was soft and warm against Gerry’s fingers. The touch wasn’t frantic or desperate, even as Michael dipped his head down to press soft sighs and kisses against Gerry’s neck. It was soft and slow and utterly without pretense. It was proof that the person he loved was there, that he was alive, and Gerry was allowed to touch him. Was allowed to be so close that he could feel his muscles moved when he shifted. 

“Sit up bunny,” 

Michael gave him a curious look, but straightened up. Gerry could feel the slight hitch in his breath when he pressed a wet kiss to the base of Michael’s throat where the collar of his shirt didn’t reach. 

“This okay?” He asked, looking up. 

“Yes.” Michael nodded and pulled his shirt all the way off to give Gerry better access. 

Gerry smiled and pressed kisses along his collarbone and shoulder, occasionally leaving small red marks that made Michael sigh appreciatively. 

* * *

The first time they’d been so close was a little under a year after they’d started dating. They’d kissed before, but they’d never really had the time for physical intimacy beyond leaning against each other or collapsing in bed together, fully clothed, after a particularly exhausting day. That day, Michael had gone with him to get a Leitner. They’d gotten the book, but Gerry had gotten pretty roughed up in the process, and there was a deep gash across his chest that definitely needed attention. Hospitals were out of the question in his line of work, so Michael had patched him up at his apartment. Lying there, a bit delirious from blood loss and adrenaline, with Michael leaning over him and using one hand to hold him still while the other was busy stitching the hole in his chest closed, had been the first time Gerry said “I love you.” 

_ Michael gave him an exasperated look. “I love you too, you idiot, now hold still!” He finished placing the stitches and took a shaky breath, before rushing to the bathroom.  _

_ Gerry heard the sounds of retching, then water running. Michael came back a couple moments later, and busied himself by covering the wound with gauze and medical tape. He sat back when he was done, one hand lingering on Gerry’s chest.  _

_ “I certainly don’t have a medical degree,” he mumbled, looking quite pale.  _

_ “You did great. Most people don’t handle this well.” Gerry rasped with a smile. Michael gave him a bewildered look.  _

_ “Gerry I just threw up, that's how freaked out I am.” He responded, absently stroking the skin near Gerry’s collarbone with his thumb.  _

_ “And you still managed to stitch me up, and you did a good job for what I’m assuming was your first time.”  _

_ Michael nodded. “And now I think I’m going to cry, if you don’t mind terribly.” Now that he no longer needed his hands to be steady he was shaking like a leaf.  _

_ “Co’mere,” _

Gerry hadn’t blamed Michael for having a panic attack. He suspected the only reason he was quite as level headed as he was the amount of painkillers Michael had given him. They’d both just been through something akin to hell, and he was honestly proud of how well Michael had performed under the stress of it all. A panic attack once the shock wore off was a pretty natural response. Gerry had held him until he calmed down, and then they both slept close to twenty hours while they recovered. He avoided infection, and Michael spent a lot of time after that learning first aid, and the whole experience, as unpleasant as it was, had brought them closer.

* * *

Michael hummed softly. 

“Mm?” Gerry responded, face buried in his shoulder. 

“Wanna lay down?”

He pressed one last kiss to the man’s neck before nodding. “Bedtime?” 

On cue, their cat meowed loudly and made a beeline for the bedroom door. “I don’t think it’s up to us.” Michael laughed softly. He unfolded himself from Gerry’s lap and stretched. 

Gerry took the opportunity to stretch too, and then rose from the couch with a yawn. 

Michael hugged him from behind, burying his face in the man’s hair. “Will you braid my hair?” 

“Sure bunny,” he said, rubbing Michael’s arm absently. “But let’s do it in the bedroom, or I think Breadstick might break down the door.” 

Michael laughed again and nodded, following him to their room. Breadstick immediately took up her post at the foot of the bed and fell asleep. 

“Lazy cat,” Gerry muttered with a chuckle. 

He took a moment to admire the line of marks he left across Michael’s shoulder as they changed into pjs. Michael came and sat in front of him so Gerry could braid his hair. He didn’t need Gerry to do it, he could do it just as well, if not better, on his own. Gerry suspected Michael asked him to as much as he did because he just liked it when Gerry played with his hair. Not that Gerry was complaining, of course. It had become something like a nighttime ritual for them, and he found that coaxing the blonde curls into place helped him unwind before bed. 

He tied his own hair into a quick bun and flopped into bed next to Michael, who was already under the covers. Gerry crawled under them and cuddled up to him. A long arm draped across his middle and pulled him closer, and it wasn’t long before they were both asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at [gayforthegoblinking](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gayforthegoblinking) on tumblr to discuss the story and other stuff.


	3. Chapter 3

A few weeks had passed since their anniversary, and the gallery date was fast approaching. Michael was listening to a podcast on the couch and sewing together scraps of cloth that would eventually become a quilt, when Gerry called to him from the study that had turned into his art room. Carefully, he set his work down on the coffee table and paused his show. 

“What is it babe?” 

“Can you come here for a minute? I want your opinion on these paintings.” 

“Just a sec.” He nudged Breadstick out of his lap and walked down the hall. 

“Here,” Gerry took his hand. “I’ve got a bunch of easels set up.” He guided Michael’s hand to one of the canvases. “Tell me what you think.” 

Michael ran his fingers over the ridges of dried paint, listening to the sounds of each brush stroke as they resolved into a sort of melody. “It’s,” he tried to find the right words. “It's a bit like black coffee. There’s something bitter, but also warm. Hopeful.” He heard the scratch of Gerry’s pencil as he made notes, and wondered if he was biting his lip like he tended to do when he was focused on something. “I like it,”

“You say you like all my paintings. And you hate coffee.” Gerry said with mock annoyance. 

“I  _ do  _ like all of your paintings. And I don’t  _ hate  _ coffee, I just don’t like drinking it much. Your voice is like coffee and I love your voice.” He hummed and leaned in to kiss the other man’s cheek. 

“Yeah yeah,” he sounded like he was blushing and Michael smiled. “What do you think of this one?” He asked, guiding Michael’s hand to another painting. 

Gerry did that for several more, writing Michael’s reactions to each one down. Then he asked which ones were his two favorites. Michael had to think about it for a few minutes, and touch a couple of the paintings again. He chose the first one and one that smelled like summer. 

“Will you put those in the gallery?”

“I think so. They already picked pieces for three of the slots, so I have to choose the four I most want to represent me to the public. I have two I think I want to use but I haven’t made any final decisions.” 

“I know you’ll make a good choice.” Michael said, kissing his cheek again. “Besides, all of your pieces are wonderful anyways.” 

“Thanks bunny, I’m glad one of us has faith in me.” Gerry leaned his head against Michael’s shoulder, and Michael wrapped an arm around him. “How’s your quilt coming?” 

“Good, I think, all of my stitches _ feel _ even at least. I’ve almost pieced together the second row.”

“Are you going to keep this one? Or is it going to be donated?”

“I’ve not decided yet, I think I’ll ask Miss Ada what she thinks when I take it in.” 

Gerry nodded a bit. 

“Babe, do you need a break? I feel like you’re getting yourself worked up over this, you’ve been in here for hours.” 

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah I should probably stop looking at them for awhile. I’m picking them apart so much that I'm starting to hate them.” 

“Come sit with me?” 

Gerry made a humming sound. “Okay.”

* * *

As the art show got closer, Gerry got more stressed about it. Even after he’d made his final decision - four pieces Michael thought were distinct but cohesive, including the two he had liked - and handed the paintings over, his general anxiety about it hadn’t faded. Michael did his best to be comforting, but ultimately he knew that Gerry was just nervous about the show and he was going to be nervous about it until it had passed. Still, he did what he could to limit other stressors and be there for his partner. Unfortunately, he could not control the actions of others. 

He woke early one morning to Gerry kissing his forehead. 

“I’m going to go open the shop bunny, I’ll leave the door open for Breadstick.” 

“Okay,” he yawned, voice raspy from sleep. “I’ll join you in a bit.” 

“No rush. Love you.” Gerry kissed him again and then got up. 

“Love you too.” Distantly he registered the sounds of Gerry getting dressed as he slipped back into sleep. Michael woke a couple of hours later. 

Eventually, he rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and his favorite jumper, an ugly old striped thing that had belonged to his grandfather and managed to be big on him. He loved it. He rebraided his hair and considered, like he always did, putting on his glasses before going downstairs. He decided against it, like he always did, and headed towards the stairs. 

Michael was about halfway down when he heard voices. Someone was talking to Gerry, and Gerry did not sound happy about it. 

“Look. I’d love to help you, but I can’t. I made it out of all of that and I won’t let you drag me back into it. I’m sorry.” 

“Please,” he didn’t recognize the voice. “I just need answers.” 

“Gerry,” he called from the bottom of the steps. “Who’s here?” 

“I’m at the counter Michael,” the venom in his voice gave way to sweetness as Michael walked over. 

“My name is Jonathon Sims.” The man said, and his voice was rust colored and tired. “I-” he started, but Gerry cut him off. 

“Was just leaving.” He said firmly. 

Michael touched his hand gently and felt him relax a fraction. “Gerry,” he asked softly. “What’s going on?” 

Gerry sighed. “Mr. Sims is-” 

“From the Magnus Institute, and I would just like to ask you a couple of questions.” 

“I told him  _ no _ .” He could hear the frown in Gerry’s voice. 

“Wait,” the man, Jon, said. “Are you Michael Shelley? Gertrude Robinson’s assistant?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

* * *

Jon gave Michael a bewildered look. Gerry was also confused. When the man had come in asking questions it had been nearly impossible to not give him the answers he wanted, and Michael had just brushed the question off like it was nothing. 

“I, well,” Jon stammered. “I’m her replacement, and I, I’m trying to stop a ritual.” 

“I hope you’re not here to offer me another job.” Michael laughed softly. “I doubt the Eye would take me back even if I agreed.” 

“No, I hadn’t - wait what?” 

“How much has she told you Jon?” 

Gerry was mostly just impressed now, by how casually Michael was dismissing the new Archivist. He realized that it must because Michael had left the Institute. The Eye had no power at all over him anymore. 

“Who are you? Why… how do you keep not answering me? Are you another avatar?” Jon had a look that was equal parts confusion and frustration. 

“Should I explain Gerry?” Michael asked him softly, threading their fingers together. 

He looked at Jon. “If we answer your questions, you’ll leave and not come back.” It wasn’t a question. 

“I… yes. Yes, if you answer my questions.” 

Michael rubbed his face. “I’ll go put the kettle on.”

* * *

Michael could hear Gerry explaining the basics of the entities and their servants as he made tea. Gerry had a better grasp of the bigger picture of it all than he did, which was why he left that part to him. He found the tray he knew was in one of the cupboards after only a few minutes of feeling around, and stacked three mugs onto it. Carefully, he poured the tea and got a little container of cream from the mini fridge in the back room. It smelled like it was still good, so he stacked it on the tray too. Just as carefully, he picked the tray up and carried it out into the shop. 

“Think of it like colors.” 

“If colors hated me.” The man sighed. 

“Can you take this?” Michael asked. He felt Gerry lift the tray out of his hands and heard the mugs clink when he set it down. 

“I saved your chair for you,” Gerry said softly. 

“Thank you babe,” Michael smiled. He found his chair and sat, pulling his legs up. “Can you hand me my tea?” Once he was settled, he sipped his tea and found Gerry’s hand with his own. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Oh, are you two together?” Jon asked. 

Michael could feel the man’s eyes on him. “Ten years, but I doubt that’s what you’re here to ask about.” 

“Yes, of course. My apologies, I didn’t mean to pry. Well, Mr. Keay -” 

“Delano.” Gerry corrected. 

“Sorry, Mr. Delano has answered most of my questions about entities and rituals,” he hesitated. 

“But you’d like to know about me?” 

“Well, yes. You said before that the Institute wouldn’t take you back. And almost everyone I’ve spoken to recently has had to answer my questions, but you’re different. How?” 

“To start, I am Michael Shelley, and I did work at the Magnus Institute as Gertrude’s assistant. But I quit.” 

“You quit? But that, that isn’t possible. You can’t just  _ quit, _ I’ve tried.” 

“Jon,” Michael said gently. 

“Yes?” 

“What entity does the Institute serve?” 

“The Eye, but I don’t see -” 

“Jon,” for the new Archivist, the man wasn’t very observant. Maybe there was hope for him yet. “Look at me.”

There was a long pause, then realization seemed to set in. “My god,” he murmured. “You’re blind.” 

“That’s the only way to leave the Institute. That or dying I suppose.” 

Gerry squeezed his hand gently and he squeezed back. 

“Did you…” Jon started, then trailed off.

“I blinded myself, yes. With chemicals, before you ask. Gertrude was going to sacrifice me to try and stop a ritual, and I decided I didn’t want to die.” He leaned his head on Gerry’s shoulder. 

“How did you know?” 

“Know what?” 

“That,” Jon paused. “That that would work. That Gertrude was going to sacrifice you.” 

Michael thought about his answer. “I knew someone who had done it already and when he said it worked I trusted him. As for your second question, Gertrude was never a good liar, not to me. Her voice always shifted blue when she lied.” 

Jon took a breath, probably to ask another question, but Michael didn’t feel like answering any more. Luckily, his phone chimed, reminding him to get ready to go have tea with Miss Ada. 

“This has been lovely, but I think you should go Jon.” He said, gently but firmly, as he sat up. 

“Yes, yes I think you’re right. Thank you so much for your help. And you’re sure the Unknowing will fail on its own?” 

“As sure as I can be.” Gerry responded. “Though I can tell you that if you still want to interfere, it will cost lives.” 

“Thank you.” Jon said again, then hurried out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at [gayforthegoblinking](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gayforthegoblinking) on tumblr to discuss the story and other stuff.


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you sure you’re feeling up for this bunny?” Gerry asked as he helped Michael fold the quilt pieces.

“Do you need me to stay here?” He asked gently, touching Gerry’s hand. 

“No, no. I want you to be able to go to tea, I just. I’m worried, is all.” He sighed. 

“You could come with me you know, I’m sure Miss Ada wouldn’t mind the extra company.” He trailed his hand up to touch Gerry’s cheek, and felt him lean into the touch.

“I don’t wanna monopolize your time bunny, you deserve to be able to do things that don’t involve me. Besides I don’t know the first thing about quilts.” He rested his own hand over Michael’s, then shifted slightly to kiss his palm. 

“Walk me there?” Michael responded, mostly because he knew it would make Gerry feel better if he wasn’t out on his own. Not that he minded when Gerry walked him places. He had far fewer people try to _help_ him with the grumpy looking goth on his arm. 

On cue, he relaxed and nodded. “Yeah, give me a few minutes to get Breadstick put up.” 

“Alright.” He smiled. 

While he waited on Gerry, he finished packing his bag. A fresh loaf of bread from the bakery down the street and some nice smelling jasmine tea in a fancy embossed box joined the folded quilt top and backing in his messenger bag. He double checked that everything was in its proper place, before slinging the bag over his shoulder. Gerry came back down stairs a couple seconds later

“Ready?” Michael asked?

***

Adaline hummed as she went around the basement, making a few last minute adjustments before tea time. The Desolation’s kin stared at her passively from where he sat bound in silk on the floor. His eyes were huge and terrified, but he made no attempt to move. A fat spider crawled over his lips. 

“Now deary,” she crooned. “I do hope you’ll stay quiet while I have my guest over.” She smiled pleasantly when no response came. “That’s what I thought. It’s that lovely Michael boy, the one you were going to kill. You remember, I’m sure. Anyways, he’s come over for our weekly tea and chat, and I’d really just hate if we were interrupted. 

She felt a tug on the threads just outside the quilt shop and went upstairs, closing the heavy basement door. She had just finished shooing the last of the little ones away from the table when the little bell on the front door rang. 

“Miss Ada?” Michael called softly. The little ones on the floor skittered away from the swinging end of his cane. 

“At the table deary, I’ve just put the kettle on, if you want to come sit.”

“Alright.” He smiled and made his way over. “I’ve brought some things for you,” he said as he sat carefully. 

“Oh? You shouldn’t have deary,” 

She watched as he pulled things from his bag. He always liked to bring small gifts to tea. Michael said it was because she wouldn’t let him pay her for finishing the quilts he made. Such a sweet boy, and she didn’t even need to use her silk. That was why, when it became clear that Michael was a target for all sorts of unsavory folk, she decided to step in. She quite liked tea time, and wasn’t keen on letting one of the other entities do anything to her quilting buddy. 

Michael sat a loaf of bread and a box of nice tea on the table. “These are for you.” He said with a smile. 

“You’re too sweet to this old woman, deary.” 

“Oh hush, it’s the least I can do. I also brought another quilt top. Gerry says this one is bee themed." 

That was another convenient thing, for her at least. She didn’t need to bother near as much with appearances. As long as none of the little ones or cobwebs actually touched Michael, he wouldn’t notice them. It made their visits all the easier. “Well don’t keep me waiting dear. Here, lay it out while I put these away and get the tea.” 

He got the quilt pieces out of his bag and laid them out while she retrieved the tray of tea and biscuits from the little kitchen in the back. “I haven’t decided if I’m going to keep this one or donate it.” Michael said as he smoothed the fabric. 

Adaline handed him his tea. “I think you should keep it dear, it’s really quite lovely and you’ve not kept any for yourself.” She admired the work as he sipped his tea. “Are you sure you don’t use a machine, deary? These seams are impeccable.” 

He smiled at the praise. “No, it’s all hand pieced. I don’t know how to use a machine.” He added with a soft laugh. 

“Well it’s lovely. I really think you should keep it. I know just how to quilt it too.” She gathered up the fabric and put it away. 

“So,” He asked after another sip of tea. “How are the grandkids?” 

“Annabelle actually just got accepted into a lovely art program.” 

“Oh that’s wonderful. Tell her I said congratulations. Is Martin's promotion everything he was hoping it would be?”

“He said in his last call that it had gotten a bit stressful, but he’s managing alright.” 

“Well I hope things turn around for him soon.”

"Oh I'm sure they will, he's always been good at pulling those kinds of strings." 

They chatted for a while, lovely small talk about nothing, and as the tea and biscuits ran out, Adaline was pleased that everything had gone smoothly. Right before Michael started making his excuses to leave, though, one of the little ones fell from the ceiling and landed in his hair. 

“What was…” He reached up and yelped when his fingered brushed spindly legs. Immediately his face twisted into panic. 

“Deary,” she said, before he could start swatting at it. Michael’s expression turned vacant as she wound silk around his mind. “Just lift your hand up and she’ll climb down.” 

He did as he was told, and let the spider crawl from his hand to the table, that same empty look all the while. 

“Now, let’s forget all about that, shall we?” 

“Yes Miss Ada.” He said flatly.

She retracted her silk, and for a moment he looked confused. “You were saying something, deary?” 

“Oh um,” he flushed a bit. “I thought something touched my hair, but I was mistaken.” His phone chimed. “Oh, Gerry’s here to walk me home. Tea was lovely, Miss Ada, I look forward to seeing what you do with the quilt. Well, not _seeing_.” He chuckled softly as he collected his bag. 

“Till next week, deary.”

“Next week.” He waved and left the shop. 

***

Gerry admired Michael, who was laid across him on the couch. Their legs were slotted together, despite how much longer Michael’s were, and he had his arms wrapped around Gerry’s torso, which he was using as a pillow while he napped. Michael had told Gerry he’d been feeling out of it on their walk home, though he said he couldn’t place why. Gerry had suggested a nap, though, even with the world's best weighted blanket quietly snoozing against his chest, he wasn’t actually all that tired. It was just as well, he was content to admire Michael instead, running his fingers through the other man’s hair and listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. 

Gerry wondered, for probably the millionth time, how he’d been so lucky. After everything with Mary before he and his dad got away from her, he’d sort of assumed that life wouldn’t get much better than that. He loved his dad, and escaping Mary was something he was still grateful for. He just thought he’d used up all his luck or whatever when he got away, and there wasn’t really a "better" for things to get, for him. When he’d started hunting down Leitners to try and feel in control for once, like he could do something to keep evil like Mary out of the world, he’d thought that that was the best life he would get. Gerry hadn’t been happy, precisely, but there was a certain satisfaction to the work. And it didn’t leave much time or energy to think about his feelings. Dad certainly hadn’t been thrilled about it, but he wouldn’t tell Gerry what to do with his life. 

Then things had changed when he had met Michael. He’d gone to the Archives to talk to Gertrude, and instead had found a tall pretty blonde, blushing and apologizing. Gertrude was out, he'd said, but he could take Gerry’s statement. Gerry hadn’t ever really been one for the dating scene, but he knew just about instantly that he was interested in the man. It had taken a few weeks of hanging around the Archives, and some good ol’ fashioned Delano charm, but he managed to get Michael’s number - scrawled in neat, loopy writing on the back of an old Institute business card. Ten years of being together later, and Michael had proven to be so much more than Gerry ever could have guessed from the first stammered “hello”. 

Michael had joined him on god only knew how many Leitner hunts, and despite what all outward appearances might suggest, he always managed to keep his cool until the danger had passed. They’d stopped after he’d left the Institute, they both agreed it was too dangerous, but Gerry could still remember all the times Michael had saved his life like it was yesterday. Pushing Gerry out of the way, causing a distraction, and once a well placed lamp to a cult member’s head, there had been countless times Michael had kept Gerry alive during their various scrapes. Then there was the simple fact that coming into his life had given Gerry a reason to stop running headlong into almost certain death, because he’d never forgive himself if he left Michael alone, afterlife or not. There were more mundane things too, like all the ways Michael had convinced him to take care of himself, all the nights that he had brought him real food and made him at least try to sleep, that had certainly extended his life. And when Gerry started getting constant headaches, Michael had made him go see a doctor. They caught the tumor just before it had started doing serious damage. 

So Gerry really couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be able to spend the rest of his life with Michael. A life he owed to Michael. That anyone could love Gerry as much as he did was baffling. That it was Michael who loved him so much, and showed it with every little moment of trust and concern, every _have you had water today_ and every _come cuddle?_ , was absolutely incredible. Gerry was determined to show how much he loved the other man in every way that he could. 

Michael hugged him tighter and a look of discomfort passed over his face. Gerry knew the look well, and shook his partner’s shoulder gently. “Michael, wake up bunny,” 

His eyes shot open and he drew in a sharp breath as he gripped Gerry’s shirt. 

Gerry rubbed Michael’s back. “It’s just a dream bunny. I’m here, you’re safe.” He felt him relax and snuggle closer. “You doing okay?” 

Michael nodded and buried his face in Gerry’s chest. “I‘m okay,” came his muffled reply. 

He continued to run his hands through the mass of blonde curls, knowing it helped Michael to calm down. “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“No,” his breathing evened out a few moments later, and he relaxed fully against Gerry’s chest again. “No it’s the same as always.” 

“How ‘bout I tell you about my day then? I saw a very good dog today.” He felt Michael smile against his chest. 

He leaned up and kissed Gerry gently. “Of course I want to hear about a very good dog.” He grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at [gayforthegoblinking](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gayforthegoblinking) on tumblr to discuss the story and other stuff.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [gayforthegoblinking](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gayforthegoblinking) on tumblr to discuss the story and other stuff.


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